Dreams Are Lies
by LynstHolin
Summary: Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood slash  Flint and Wood are crazy in love, despite being rivals, but Flint has a prophetic dream that leads him to believe things won't end well between them.


Warnings: rough sex, language

This was written as a prize for someone on deviantART. She wanted Flint/Wood, with 'death is deceptive' as the prompt, and she stipulated no fluff.

...

"Dammit, Malfoy, if you'd spend less time giving Potter the evil eye and more time _looking for the snitch_, maybe we could actually win a game against Gryffindor!" Marcus Flint shouted. "Just ask him to marry you already if you can't keep your eyes off of him!" The blond just gave his team captain a sulky look and shot straight up in the air. Marcus growled to himself, startling Colin Creevey into dropping his camera.

"You need to do a better job of keeping your players in line, Flint. If the snitch had been any closer to Malfoy, he wouldn't be a virgin any more." Oliver Wood was hovering about ten feet off the ground, grinning.

Marcus glowered, his gray eyes turning black. "We need to talk. In private." He zoomed up to Oliver and grabbed him by his robes, towing him toward a supply shed under the stands. His broomstick knocked the door open, and both boys hit a wall and were knocked off their mounts.

"I love it when you're angry," Oliver gasped as Marcus shoved him up against a rough wooden wall and started dragging up his robes. They were both hard already.

It was as much hand-to-hand combat as sex. They were both powerfully built, and each one tried to dominate the other as they tumbled around the floor. When he came, Marcus cried out and put one foot right through a crate full of gardening tools. Oliver yanked some of Marcus' black hair clean out as he shook and moaned.

They stared at each other, panting. Oliver wiped blood off his mouth as Marcus touched the fresh bruises on his thighs. It amazed Marcus anew every time, that someone as beautiful as Oliver wanted him. _Craved _him. Couldn't get enough of him. "Come here," Marcus said hoarsely. Their lips met in a brutal kiss. Marcus wanted to meld with his lover, wanted to ravage him and make him scream. It was love, it was madness, and it was a secret.

There was a rap on the door. "Are you two done?" Madam Hooch asked.

Both boys snickered, Marcus self-consciously covering his mouth with his hand. He worried that someday Oliver, Oliver of the perfect white teeth and the clear skin and the glossy brown hair, would be repulsed by his teeth. His huge, equine teeth. "Shall we play Quidditch?" Oliver asked.

Marcus heaved a sigh. "We might as well. There's not a chance Slytherin will win with that posh brat as seeker, but we might as well get some use out of those brooms his daddy bought for us."

Oliver looked around for his underwear. "He's an excellent flyer."

"Yeah, but his concentration is shite." Marcus straightened his robes. "Too bad Potter isn't a Slytherin."

"I'll see you out on the pitch," Oliver said as Marcus left the shed. He was smiling so that his dimples showed. _Dimples_. Not for the first time, Marcus was frightened by the strength of what he felt.

...

Marcus could see Hogwarts Castle, but it looked... wrong. Parts were missing. Screams and shouts came from all around him. He was dressed in a brass-studded leather vest and trousers, with a Dark Mark on his left arm. Trolls rampaged around him. Spells zizzed past his head. A man with a twisted, scarred face laughed as he pointed his wand at two terrified Hogwarts students. "Leave them alone," Marcus said, "They're children."

The scarred wizard laughed coldly. "If they're old enough to draw their wands on me, they're old enough to die." The two boys were crying, holding on to each other in fear.

"For fuck's sake, Mordechai-"

"_Avada kedavra_!" Mordechai howled with laughter as the two boys fell down.

Horrified, Marcus stared down at the lifeless bodies. Neither of them even had peach fuzz on their chins yet. This... this wasn't what he'd become a Death Eater for.

A rage-filled howl from the sky made him look up. It was Oliver, coming at him on a broom. His pretty face was contorted as he screamed, "_Die, you filthy, low-life bastard_!" He looked Marcus right in the eyes as he pointed his wand, throwing a killing curse. As Marcus' sight faded, and his heart slowed, all he could see and hear was the only man he'd ever loved, face twisted with hate and mouth spitting epithets.

...

Marcus sat straight up in bed, gasping. He put a hand over his heart to make sure that it was still beating, then put his head in his hands. It had been a couple of years since it had happened last, but he knew that what he'd just experienced wasn't an ordinary dream. His family had a talent for _seeing_, and Marcus knew when a dream was really a prophecy. His lover was going to kill him. That was an incontrovertible fact.

...

Oliver passed him in the hall. Marcus could feel the weight of the other boy's eyes on him. It made him feel sick. _The look on Oliver's face, the pleasure he took in killing him_...

A scrap of parchment was pressed into his hand. Marcus unfolded it. It said, 'I love you -O-'.

_If someone could say that he loved you, and then kill you while looking you in the eye, then what did 'I love you' mean? _"Nothing," Marcus whispered, "Nothing at all."

He tossed the scrap in the air. It wafted about and slowly floated down, landing on the stone floor. Feet trampled on it, tearing it, grinding it down into nothing.

...

Oliver ran to catch up with Marcus, his breath puffing out white in the chilly air. "Why are you ignoring me? I don't understand."

Oh, it hurt. It hurt so much. "I don't want you any more." Oh, Merlin. The lie made Marcus' chest ache.

"Please, tell me, what's wrong?" Oliver pleaded.

"I've found another," Marcus said.

"You're lying," Oliver snapped. "Who?"

Marcus looked around. It was a snowy December day, and a lot of students were outside frolicking in the fresh white stuff. His gaze landed on Draco Malfoy, who was building a snow fort with Crabbe and Goyle. "Malfoy."

"You're joking. He's a little boy."

Marcus forced a leer. "That's what I like. You've got too old for me, Wood."

"You're disgusting," Oliver spat. He turned away from Marcus before the tears in his eyes showed. He didn't speak another word to Marcus until the day Flint died.

...

McGonagall grabbed Oliver by the arm. "You're still planning on flying into battle?"

Oliver nodded. "I'm far faster and nimbler on a broomstick than on foot."

"All right, then. You need this more than anyone else." She held a tiny cauldron in her hands.

"What is it?"

"You'll be above the battle, moving swiftly. Telling friend from foe won't be easy under those conditions. A drop in each eye will enable you to detect Death Eaters with the quickest glance. Their Dark Marks will make them glow red."

Oliver tilted his head back, and McGonagall dribbled a little bit of the potion in his eyes. It stung a bit at first. He got on his broomstick right there in the hallway, zooming through Hogwarts Castle until he reached the door to the Astronomy Tower. He slowed a little to open the door with his wand, and then he was in the open air, looking down at Voldemort's army. There were hundreds of brilliant pinpoints of red. Oliver pulled a pair of goggles over his eyes and hurtled down toward the battlefield at high velocity.

He had to slow down as he got closer to the ground, but he zigzagged around so much that none of the hexes cast at him were able to connect. Oliver hurled the strongest stunning spells he knew, spells that could put a person out for days.

His keen eyes spotted two small figures running, trying to evade Voldemort's forces. What were a couple of children doing out on the battlefield? One fell, and the other stopped to help him up. A man that glowed red approached them, and the two boys drew their wands. "NO!" Oliver shouted. It all happened so fast. A flash of green light, and the boys fell down. Oliver knew an _Avada_ when he saw one.

A murderous rage filled him and he shook from head to toe. Oliver bared his teeth and shouted obscenities as he sped toward the nearest enemy, wand out. He could see the Death Eater's wide eyes, but the rest of his face was obscured by the red glow. Oliver glared right into those eyes and screamed his hate. "_Avada kedavra_!" Oliver Wood had just killed for the first time.

A flash of green light came from behind him, just barely missing. He wheeled his broom around and slew the Death Eater that had killed the little boys. The rage drained out of him, leaving nausea behind. He turned his broom in a tight circle, scanning for approaching enemies. He glanced at the ground and saw a familiar face, a face that he'd only seen in his dreams for far too long.

Oliver knew that Marcus was gone as he knelt down beside him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it."


End file.
